Geez, its been a long time. Sorry about that! But, now I have a laptop, to be used mostly for writing! Plus, I have my friend nagging me constantly to write, and its holidays, so hopefully I can write more!

As usualy, it'd be great if you could leave comments about the chapter or the story as a whole. Was writing this chapter at 11pm and trying to write an entire chapter on, well, you'll see what on.

Thanks guys!


Fiyero Tiggular felt lifeless. In this short time of being in this horrific place, he had been burned, thrown around as if he were a rag doll, and torn apart. His body sat askew, his legs separated from his upper body, although there was no pain. His head pounded from the tear which now occupied his temple, and he clutched it in his half-stuffed hands.

He had been dragged against his will from his castle, thrown into a cart of some sort and was then dumped into this room as though he were nothing more than a bag of garbage. The entire trip he had been blinded by a hessian bag and gagged with a strip of cotton. He had no clue of his whereabouts and no reason of why he was here. His primary thoughts had been that he was a tool, a source of information. But so far he had only been beaten, and no questions had been asked.

He had tried to talk to them. Plead to them to let him go. But he had had no luck. They seemed to enjoy torturing him, using him as a kind of toy to throw around and tear apart as they please. Each day the soldier came in and pulled him off the bed, sneering at him and throwing him against the wall. Fiyero never succumbed to showing his pain and resentment, and this seemed to irritate the soldier, forcing him to rip him apart even more. Sometimes the soldier brought in a torch, threatening to reduce him to a ball of flame. He never resisted - it was useless. He was made of straw, and that wouldn't go far against a burly soldier. Sometimes the soldier did place the torch against his arm, creating a small spark which soon caught on. Fiyero would often try to put out the fire, so as to stop it spreading over his entire body and degrading him to a collection of hessian and boots. The soldier enjoyed laughing at him as he watched. After the soldier left, Fiyero often had to remove the burnt straw and take fresh straw from his stomach. As this happened more than once, he felt himself becoming weaker as more and more straw was removed.

He often thought of Elphaba. He often wondered if they had taken her too. At night, he would strain to hear her painful cries, but none ever reached his room, the room which consisted of small stone walls and a single moth-eaten bed. No decorations or motifs lined the walls, and no furnishings decorated its interior. It was as bare as a prison cell, and it felt like one too. He wondered if his 'wife' was held in a similar space, sitting and thinking in silence. Every time the soldier left, he managed to ask "What about Elphaba?" The soldier never answered, but laughed in his face. Fiyero wasn't sure if the guard even knew who he was talking about, and he hoped she had been left untouched. If so, where was she? Was she at the castle, worried? Had she even made it home? Maybe the Gale Force had taken her someplace else. All these questions flew around his head like irritating crows, and all of these questions remained unanswered. He tried to convince himself that she was alright, if only to put himself at ease, but he had no way of knowing. He could only pray that she was safe and unharmed.

He had no idea of time in this small cell. It could have been weeks, days or even mere hours. He had counted the soldier to have emerged ten times, though he had no clue if he came once every day, every hour or every few days. When he was alone, he often slept or drew back into deep thought, and this often made him lose any sense of time. No meals were brought to him during his stay, and no room service was provided. His bed remained lumpy and cold, and was uncomfortable to sleep on, though somehow he managed.

He felt useless. As though his life would never change. He would stay in this gray room until he ran out of straw, and would then be torn and burnt. He did put up a fight one day, though. The soldier had once again scattered straw around the room, leaving Fiyero on his knees, struggling to collect himself. The guard turned towards the door to leave, but Fiyero ran ahead. He was tired of knowing nothing. Tired of sitting in here alone. He stood in front of their door, arms outstretched. Although he knew it probably wouldn't do him any good, he didn't step down.

"Why am I here?" he demanded, his voice shaking. The soldier ignored him and tried to push past him. Fiyero used all his strength to force the guard back.

"You're not leaving until I have answers! Why am I here? What do you want with me?"

The guard once again made a move to leave, but was stopped once more. He finally spoke, although the answer was not what Fiyero was expecting.

"We need you to get to get to Glinda."

-Wicked-

Glinda though that her good mood could never have been disturbed that night. Elphaba was back! That alone made her burst with happiness.

But as soon as the guard knocked on her door and delivered the note, her mood changed as swiftly as it came.

'Surrender or he dies.'

Along with the note came a photo of a broken Fiyero.


Thanks for reading!